Requiem
by Kizu Mizu
Summary: Decisions and consequences. A rainy day on the track teaches the Ritters a powerful, tragic lesson. ONE-SHOT Warning: character death


**This is my first Wildfire fic, and probably the only. I don't own anything you recognize. Flames will be thrown into my fireplace to keep me warm. -- Kizume**

Reqieum

The rain hadn't stopped. For the past three days, the Raintree contingent had been stuck in their hotel rooms watching the deluge outside of their windows.

Matt and his mother spent the majority of the time talking, arguing rather, about Wildfire's chances. They were waffling, thinking it would be best to pull the horse and find a better - drier - track to race on.

Kris was adamant. Wildfire could run, and would win - despite the track that had long since deteriorated from sloppy to downright soupy. Matt, lovesick as he was, knew the investment that they had wrapped up in the horse.

"I don't know, Kris," he murmured. "Why don't we wait?"

"The debt collectors won't wait." She shot a narrow-eyed glare at Jean who stood some distance off pretending not to hear every word spoken. "Since we gave the money back..." she left the rest unspoken. Matt tensed and it was a conscious effort on his part not to peer over his shoulder guiltily. "That was my mistake," she said, lamely - realizing just how she had made that sound. "But..."

"And it'll be _my_ mistake if anything happens to Wildfire...or you." His eyes were trained on her face, making her shift uncomfortably. She knew why Matt was objecting. It wasn't _just_ about the horse. At any other time it would have warmed her to know just how much he cared for her, but now, now it just irked her.

"We can win!"

"But at what cost, Kris?"

She threw up her hands. "Please, Jean, help him see reason. Wildfire can handle any surface..." she stared at the two stone-faced Ritters and growled under her breath. "I wish Pablo were here."

"Well, he's not," Jean snapped. "And we have to make a decision. The deadline for scratching is rapidly approaching." She surveyed the younger people in the room before sighing. "It's Raintree or Wildfire."

* * *

Matt was still arguing when the trio made their way to the shedrow. "Kris, please...if you refuse to ride...my mother will see reason, I swear; this is absolutely crazy." 

"Maybe." Kris strapped on her helmet and walked purposefully toward the tackroom to grab up a supply of goggles for the race. "Or maybe she knows that we're capable of winning."

Matt stared at her in shock. "This isn't about me thinking you're incapable of winning, Kris." His voice edged toward shrill as he grabbed her arm, fingers slipping against the silk sleeve. "This is about putting you and Wildfire in a situation that I know will only end in disaster!"

"How do you know?" she retorted. "We can do this. It's only a little mud. Wildfire's got the right shoes, he's fit, ready. He's got me."

Matt sighed heavily. "Kris..."

"It's settled Matt." She gave him a tight smile, one that he knew could be compared to a feral animal bearing its teeth more than a genial, happy expression. He held up his hands in defeat.

"Fine." He let a little of his frustration show as he turned on his heel, intending to march away. He stopped suddenly, whirling around and catching Kris into a tight embrace. "I love you, Kris."

Her arms wrapped around him after only a moment's hesitation and the pair stood, Matt cradling her head in his palm, Kris' hands fisted in the back of his shirt. "I love you, Matt."

He pulled back and placed a soft kiss on her lips. "See you in the winner's circle," he murmured.

She nodded and they separated. He left her standing in the middle of the shed row, his own mind a dark tangle of worry for that infuriating woman.

* * *

The horses trotted out in the post-parade, but could hardly be seen for the sheets of rain that continued to fall. Matt sat anxiously next to his mother, watching as Junior and Dani stared at him from a few boxes up. Their expressions were easy enough to read. "You're crazy," they seemed to shout over the deafening roar of the rain on the roof covering the grandstand. The occasional rumble of far-off thunder accompanied their unspoken protest to this madness and he shrugged, turning his eyes out to the track, searching for Kris in the deluge. 

His mother gripped his arm in what she seemed to think was a reassuring manner. "She'll be fine," she soothed, not sounding completely convinced of it herself. "They both will."

He didn't need to say anything. The fervent _I hope so_ floated through the air, as present and ominous as the clouds that hung above the one-and-one-half mile oval.

The start of the race was barely heard above the noise of the storm. One moment the track was gleaming with the gathering water and the next it was churning under the hooves of the small field as they headed into the first turn.

Unconsciously, Matt slid to the end of his seat, searching for Kris' silks among the crowd. If they hadn't gotten the lead, her shirt would be caked with mud as it was, so he searched for the helmet, spotting it in the middle of the pack. "There she is!" he shouted, half-rising out of his seat. His eyes shifted to Junior who was watching the race unfold with as much dread as Matt felt. Though, the young man hadn't fully recovered from his botched relationships with Kris, he had done a great deal to move on with his life: with a new girlfriend, and new interests. His stint at attempting to be the next Ken Davis seemed far removed from the impressive, driven man he'd become.

Matt's eyes shifted to Kris. Their relationship, such as it was, wasn't moving in the direction he wanted. He loved her, would love her for the rest of his life. She never trusted him.

As the horses rounded the final turn, he had risen from his seat. He saw her edging toward the front, flattened against Wildfire's back, urging for more speed. His worries were pushed to the back of his mind by excitement as he rose to his feet and cheered. The moment his cry of exaltation died on his lips, things went horribly wrong.

Wildfire seemed to lurch toward the rail. His smile dropped off of his face. "_Kris!" _he shouted it as he was rushing from the owner's box. He didn't see what happened until he heard the crowd draw in one collective gasp. He turned and caught the tail end of the spill, Wildfire was down on his knees, jockeys doing their best to avoid hitting the downed horse. It took him a minute to spot Kris.

He vaulted the rail before any track security could stop him. The horses had long since finished the race and the equine ambulance was making its way to the fallen horse and rider. Matt skidded in the mud, shouting Kris' name as he flopped next to her.

He reached out a hand and touched her cheek. She didn't move. "Kris?" The EMTs arrived and shoved him out of the way. He staggered backwards, into his mother's arms. He dropped his gaze to her face and gulped. "Wildfire?"

The tears on her cheeks dropped from her skin as she shook her head. "It's not good."

He stood staring down at the scene below him. One of the EMTs looked up at him and shook her head. Rising from the mud she headed to the two Ritters. "I'm sorry," she whispered. Matt didn't understand, didn't guess what was going on until her partner grabbed a sheet and covered Kris' still form.

"What...wait!" He grabbed at her arm. "Why aren't you helping her?" he cried, gripping the woman tightly. His mother gripped his other arm in a tight grip.

"Matt." The tear choked whisper broke through his haze and he stared down at her. "Let them do what they have to do...let's go see to Wildfire."

"But Kris..."

Jean shook her head. "Matt, we can't help her now. Not where she's gone."

He broke down then, sinking to his knees in the mud and holding his hands to his face. Minutes later he was enveloped in the arms of his best friend, who had run out onto the track minutes before. "God!" he shouted, gripping Junior's suit in tight fists. "No..."

He pulled away and stared into Junior's pained face. His eyes shone with the shock that Matt felt running up and down his spine. "She can't be..." he trailed off, unwilling to say the word. It wasn't true. Death was for the old. Death was final. It couldn't have Kris. Matt scowled. He wouldn't let it have her.

"They have to do something!" he cried, tearing himself away from Junior to whirl on the EMTs loading the still form onto the stretcher in order to carry her to the ambulance. Junior clapped a hand on his shoulder when Matt made to follow. "Let me go! They can't have her! Kris is mine! They can't...she's..." He crumpled into a heap on the racetrack, staring unseeingly at the spot where she had been moments before.

* * *

Instantaneous. They told him she wouldn't have felt any pain. It was a blessing. She was in a better place. It was all bullshit.

Kris was dead, and there was nothing, no placating words, no quiet prayers that could change that. Now, the Ritters, Pablo and two-thirds of the Davis clan were seated in the waiting room. The vets were in with Wildfire. He'd been stable enough to move to the clinic for evaluation, but it was still undetermined if he would need to be put down. His hand squeezed Dani's convulsively and he cast a sidelong look at her. She was stone-faced, and her expression spoke of being somewhere else, far away. Of course. He sighed. RJ. "Dani..." he whispered it. She turned her head and the raw misery in her eyes made his own prick with tears. "It's all right...you can...you don't have to..."

She shook her head and gave him a small smile. "I'm here for you, Matt. I'm here for my friend." She gave his hand a quick squeeze.

They waited for hours until the vet finally grace them with his presence. His scrubs were sweat stained, and he was in the process of pulling his mask from around his neck when he stepped into the waiting room. "Well?" Jean snapped, even before the vet caught sight of them. "How is he?"

The vet sighed and his shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry."

Seemed like everyone was saying that today.

Matt crumpled and Dani caught him in her arms. Junior's hand landed on his back. "At least," he said in a voice that broke numerous times over the words. "At least they went together. It's what she would have wanted."

It was small comfort, but it was true.


End file.
